


Kneel

by ButchTheDoggo, minutiae



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Aftercare, Coming Untouched, Dom Jaskier | Dandelion, Japanese Rope Bondage, Jewelry, Lambert is pretty, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Makeup, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Rope Bondage, Safewords, Shibari, Sub Lambert (The Witcher)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:41:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26636764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButchTheDoggo/pseuds/ButchTheDoggo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/minutiae/pseuds/minutiae
Summary: Lambert is the prettiest, and deserves to be tied up like the gift he is.
Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert
Comments: 50
Kudos: 147





	Kneel

**Author's Note:**

> This was is the beautiful result of discord chat and tiktok riggers posting ever so pretty videos of their work.

It was the deepest dark of winter, the snow piled high enough on the mountaintops that the keep was cold, but quiet. Vesemir had long retired for the night and Eskel was snoring softly, a book splayed on his chest as Jaskier wound a bright purple rope around Geralt's arm. He was fussing with it, weaving a complicated knot pattern with the thin, soft looking rope before pulling it back off and starting again. Geralt clearly wasn't asleep, but held his arm out patiently, letting his old friend practice. 

Lambert tossed aside the small bit of wood he'd been carving, mostly to keep his hands busy. "What's the point of your pretty string, bard? That wouldn't hold a child."

Geralt peered, one eye half open and smirked, before setting his head back down. 

"It's perfectly strong enough to hold a witcher, Lambert. You really shouldn't judge on appearances."

"Geralt let you tie him up? He was probably humoring you." He waved a hand at the small coil of brightly colored rope. "You want to hold a witcher, we have heavy leather and good steel chains." His teeth were bright and sharp as he grinned. "We've all seen what it takes to hold us down, and that fancy rope isn't it."

Jaskier pulled the rope off Geralt's arm slowly, before rewinding it up into a neat hank. 

"If you're that curious how well this rope can hold you, you can just ask." He patted Geralt's arm, and walked out quietly, shutting the door behind him softly so as to not wake Eskel.

It took a week before Lambert knocked softly at Jaskier's bedroom door. He looked less physically imposing without his armor on, but the sharpness to his grin made it clear he still had quite a few doubts. The way his eyes roamed the room, however, tipped his hand on exactly how curious the young witcher was. 

"So what can you do with your pretty string, songbird?"

"Ah, a guest for Mr. Spider. Come in, Lambert. Shirt off, please."

He stepped in, closing the door behind him before slipping the shirt off in one smooth, long twist of his arms up, dropping it on Jaskier's bed.

He stood, arms crossed, watching Jaskier dig through a trunk, pulling out three hanks of deep crimson rope. They were placed on the table, and Jaskier stood, watching Lambert, undeterred by the challenge in the witcher's eyes. "What's your safeword?" 

The witcher's eyes narrowed, but Jaskier was calm and undeterred. "Safeword, Lambert, or leave now."

"Albert."

"Good. Now come here, stop sulking. Lets show you first how pretty this can be, hm?"

They were quiet as Jaskier worked, weaving one of the hanks of rope slowly around the slim waist of the witcher, who watched him with an amused smirk. The bard's fingers only ghosted close to Lambert's skin, deftly laying the rope instead of sliding or dragging it. Long fingers plucked rope from his skin as he wove it through and around. The end result was a gorgeous woven red corset shape, pressing and snug to Lambert's skin. His nerves were alight with the expectation of touch that never actually happened. His pupils were wide and his breath slightly short- was the bard trying deliberately not to touch him? 

He'd seen him wrap rope around Geralt's arms, even up his legs, and Jaskier hadn't been shy about smoothing a hand on his brother's arms or legs, moving his body around. Geralt usually dozed through it, though he'd never seen Jaskier do something this complicated on his brother. 

His voice was more breathless than he preferred, "Pretty sure this doesn't count as holding me, Jaskier." 

The bard lifted one delicate eyebrow, and managed to tuck one finger under the top edge of his trousers, pulling them minutely away from his body, sliding along the inside of the hem, still without ever actually touching him. That small involuntary inhale made brows furrow, and even as he crossed his arms over his chest again, the deep inhale of a huff made the ropes press tightly against his skin. 

"Doesn't look much like you want to leave, Lambert." 

He scowled, turning half a step away, facing the door.

"If you're staying, put your arms behind your back, wrists crossed."

Lambert stared, challenging, but Jaskier just waited patient and placid before Lambert huffed and crossed his wrists. He wrapped his wrists first, over and over, weaving the rope through. This wasn't a tie Lambert was familiar with, snug and soft on his wrists, no hard knot pressing anywhere. Lambert tried to keep his hands far enough away from his back that the heat of the bard's hands was less noticeable, but the silken slide of the rope made him shudder slightly, pulling them back close. Jaskier was still not touching him, draping and placing the rope carefully across his shoulders and chest when suddenly he felt the hot brand of his fingers pulling the rope around his upper arm, gently tugging his elbows straight down, closer to his sides. The ropes were firm, crossed around his body, but still, easily escapable. 

Jaskier stepped back, picking up the third bundle of rope as Lambert caught his eye. He was peering over his shoulder, chin up, the slightest challenging smirk. Jaskier just smiled, but even at this angle Lambert could see he wasn't the only one affected. "Takes you quite a lot of rope to hold a witcher down, Bard. And you're not done yet?"

"I'm aware you could still walk away, Lambert. And yet, you're not. Shall I finish?"

"Yeah, alright, why not. Amuse yourself."

Lambert was not aware that this could get worse and yet it did. Jasker started at the center of his back, light fingers pulling and arranging the ropes. He could hardly focus, his skin electric at the slide of the soft ropes across his arms, the kiss of them on his back. He bit his lip, refusing to gasp at the feel of his fingers sliding knots, slowly tightening the ropes around his arms. It spread out in a circle, and Lambert realized now why Jaskier had called himself a spider. He was building a spiderweb on Lambert's back. One he'd promised the witcher wouldn't be able to escape. The press of the rope on his ribcage at the breath he inhaled at a particularly long stroke of rope made him growl, deep and low. 

Jaskier's hands paused, waiting. After a few moments, Lambert realized it was a question, and he shook his head. The wrapping continued. It continued up and around until the ropes were pressing tightly into his skin, firm and solid, without digging into the muscle. It felt like it'd been hours, and Lambert was slightly dizzy from the wait. 

"Ah." Jaskier was standing in front of him now, one delicate hand reaching out, nearly touching his chest and Lambert found himself leaning towards it before snarling at himself. "Twenty minutes of rope and you're already halfway there aren't you?"

"Fuck off, Bard, are you done with your string, yet?"

"Yes, Lambert. I'm done. You haven't really tested it have you? I was very pleased at your patience, at how still you managed to stay."

He growled at how the praise sent prickles across his skin. Eskel was the one with patience, not him. But that just shifted Jaskier half a step forward, his eyes bright and teeth suddenly sharp looking. "Go on, Lambert. Show me you can escape. Break the ropes." 

But Lambert couldn't move. His arms were completely immobilized, even flexing his arms and shoulders, teeth bared. The bard's pretty red ropes had him held completely still, breathing fast and incredibly hard. And so fucking angry for it, Geralt had to have known, this had to be a trick to humiliate him. 

A soft hand slid through the hair on his chest, slick with sweat and panting, eyes wild and angry. But he still didn't move. He could have walked out of the room but he was caught, and hard, and wanting and desperately hoped this wasn't the moment he learned the bard's extent of cruelty. 

"Oh, you're just the prettiest bound up and wanting." 

The snarl was replaced by a sneer and an incredulous scoff. "I'm not pretty. I'm a Witcher. Witchers aren't pretty."

"Say that one more time and I'll make you regret it." 

"I'm not pretty." Lambert snarled, all teeth and aggression.

Jaskier reached one hand out, and caught Lambert by the front laces of his trousers, and waited. Lambert bared his teeth, waiting for Jaskier to flinch, or falter. But not even the slightest scent of fear drifted off the bard, and when he dipped his chin in the slightest of nods Jaskier pulled him a step forward, stripping him nude in one long slow slide of fabric. The palest huff of a breath on Lambert's aching cock made him groan down deep, tipping his head back, eyes closed. A soft hand down his shin, fingers curling around his ankle before sliding along the top of his foot, freeing him one leg at a time from his trousers. He listened carefully, the soft shift of fabric likely meant the bard was folding his clothing. He was always fussy about things looking nice and neat. 

He was so focused on listening to what the bard was doing, waiting for another touch that the soft puff of a pillow at his feet nearly startled him. The hand on the back of his neck that dropped him to his knees on the pillow made him shudder and gasp as his knees hit the ground. 

Lambert's eyes were wide and glassy, staring at Jaskier before him. The bard was still completely dressed, but looked down appraisingly at the witcher knelt at his feet. It had been the gentlest of touches that sent him to his knees but it rocked through him like a shockwave. He'd always been irritated at how bright and pretty the bard was, but Lambert was pretty sure he'd be willing to look up at those eyes from his knees forever. 

"Fuck." Lambert was unmoored, trying desperately to hang on to the rage at being tied, naked and hard about it at the bard's knees. 

"Indeed." Jaskier agreed. He dragged one delicate finger along Lambert's jawline, tilting his head up as he reflexively bared his teeth. "So very pretty." 

A deep growl rumbled through his chest as he panted, glaring at the bard. 

"I suppose you're right, pretty puppy. There could be more. You've been very good for me, very patient. But if you can close your eyes and promise not to bite you can have a treat."

A finger traced his lip, and Lambert shuddered, closing his eyes. He wanted to know what this treat could possibly be, he was already desperately hard and wanting.

Jaskier walked around the room, Lambert tracked his steps quietly, waiting. The bard reeked of lust and want- so he fell into the haze himself and trusted, waiting. He nearly flinched when the cold metal of a large, but light necklace was laid across his neck, the chill of it sharp, his cock throbbing in anticipation. 

A light hand cupping his cheek startles his eyes open, bright blue eyes wrinkled in amusement above him before the bard clicked his tongue disapprovingly, and Lambert grumbled, closing his eyes again. Jaskier whispered softly, his hands delicately applying makeup, a long gentle line along his eyelashes, a soft brush to his eyes. He growled when the brush touched his lips, a grumble about fucking makeup on witchers, and Jaskier flicked his nose softly. 

"It's so much fun to smear it all up when you're done, pretty pup."

He described carefully what he was doing, how the deep red of the makeup would make his golden eyes shine, the black eyeliner a beautiful outline, making his already long lashes stand out. Lambert could almost picture it, the dark crimson stain on his mouth. He smirked, eliciting a small laugh from the bard. 

"Open your eyes. Oh, yes. Even prettier than I imagined it'd be. Would you like to see?"

Jaskier didn't bend down to talk to him, just tilted his chin up, looking down at him through hooded eyes, clearly just as affected. It was all Lambert could do to nod.

"Hm. Should we have Eskel bring a mirror for you to see?" 

Lambert's pupils blew wide, only the palest ring of gold left to see, the softest, involuntary moan dripped from his lips. Jaskier's pulse spiked sharply, before he nodded calmly, opening the door and calling softly down the hall asking Eskel to borrow his mirror. The keep was quiet and still, and while neither of them heard an answer, Lambert knew he had moments before Eskel arrived. The sheer anticipation had Lambert's cock just weeping precome, and he spread his knees wider to rut on the pillow between his knees but just at that moment the soft taps on the door heralded Eskel's arrival. 

Jaskier opened the door in one smooth wide swing, knowing that Eskel would be hit full force with the scent of everything in the room. He nearly dropped the mirror, eyes wide staring at Lambert on his knees, chin up. He was trussed up like a gift, kneeling on a pillow in the center of the room, and his eyes roamed, drinking in the sight. He was tied up in the most intricate knots, with the sparkle of a beautiful golden lace necklace that drapes down past his collarbone, dangling rubies buried in the soft thatch of hair on his chest. The red on his eyes and lips made his eyes blaze in the darkness and Eskel's eyes snapped to Jaskier. So much red. Was this for him? They often teased him how ridiculous his love of the color was. One winter, Lambert actually managed to dye Lil' Bleater bright red. 

But Jaskier just smiled. "Doesn't he look pretty, Eskel?"

"Gorgeous," Eskel says, his voice a rough whisper. Lambert flushed brightly at the compliment, but can't break eye contact. 

He smirked, one corner of his mouth drawing up, eyes crinkled. Eskel wasn't hiding, or perhaps couldn't hide, his interest as he swallowed softly, still clutching the mirror. Jaskier pulled him in the room gently, a soft hand curled around Eskel's wrist. He guided him gently in front of Lambert, shutting the door while Lambert finally got a good look at what he looked like, hissing through his teeth at the change. He didn't look like a witcher, right now, except for the eyes. He barely recognized himself, the makeup making his eyes look even bigger, brighter, the flush on his cheeks. 

Jaskier took the mirror gently away, before tracing a finger along Lambert's cheekbone. 

"You look like a gift, Lamb."

Eskel, however, was still staring at Lambert, who decided that looking up at Eskel from this angle may also be the best thing he'd ever experienced. His breath was short, and the lust rolling from all of them made the room thick with it, nearly overpowering, and even Eskel shivered when Jaskier curled a delicate hand around Eskel's elbow. 

"Come admire all of him, darling." 

He trailed his fingers down Lambert's shoulders, explaining to Eskel exactly how Lambert had been immobilized. He traced certain ropes, and tugged on a the center knot, showing Eskel how the one knot shifted his whole upper body back slightly. As he brought him around to face Lambert again, showing how the rope corset was woven, and Lambert was flushed and panting. The ropes had all been placed with the minimum of touch and now Jaskier hadn't stopped touching him. He hissed when a finger trailed lightly across a nipple, eliciting a small smirk from Jaskier.

Eskel looked wrecked and wanting, his hands clenching and unclenching, and Lambert could smell how hard he was in his trousers. His clothes were rumpled and loose- he must have been reading in bed, or near sleep when they called for him, and he'd come, barefoot and willing. 

Eskel's eyes were wide, still caught in the spiderweb that was Lambert, before breathlessly begging "Jaskier, may I touch him?"

Jaskier catches Lambert's eye, a question, still not having let go of Eskel's elbow. Lambert dips his chin in the slightest of nods, the tinest smile curving just the edge of his mouth. Jaskier tied him, bound him, made him kneel but all the power in this room laid at Lambert's knees, and that was a dizzying idea. This night was turning out like nothing he'd ever expected. 

Eskel pretended he hadn't noticed the exchange, waiting until Jaskier let go of his elbow. He was given permission to touch, with direction. Jaskier takes a seat in front of Lambert, looking down at the witcher kneeling before him. And he begins to talk. 

He tells Eskel exactly where, and how to touch. Eskel has always run hot- no one knew if it was the magic in his blood, a side effect of the grasses, or just part of what made him Eskel. But even his hands were hot, and so, so much bigger than the long, delicate fingers of the bard. 

He's directed to slide a finger beneath the rope that makes the top of Lambert's corset, tracing it along the front of his ribcage, pulling it out and along, making Lambert shudder. With his shoulders restrained it turns into a whole body writhe. 

Jaskier smiled, and the only instruction that he gave Lambert is that he could not come until he's been given permission. There was a wet spot underneath his cock on what used to be a clean pillow. Lambert huffs out an annoyed breath but he can’t hide how the instruction makes his cock twitch. A groan escapes him as Eskel's large, warm hands trace down his arms. 

Jaskier gave explicit, detailed instructions. The bard had once gone on at length about how his ability to read an audience was nearly as important to being a successful bard as his singing ability. At the time, Lambert had thought he'd been bragging but now he was on his knees, panting, dripping with sweat and precome. He listened as Jaskier directed Eskel and pushed him ever closer to overstimulation by the heat of his hands and the musky scent of their combined lust. 

He moaned involuntarily as Eskel's finger pushed against the hollow of his collarbones, shifting the necklace slightly. Lambert’s cock twitched and pulsed at the barely there stimulation. He was adrift in a haze of lust and wanting so strong it almost hurt. He’d never thought a finger trailing there would have made him shiver so. But then Eskel stopped moving his hands across Lambert’s heated skin and the man almost whined. Lambert heard Eskel ask Jaskier if he had any more jewelry but all he could focus on was the fact that those warm hands weren’t moving anymore. Eskel shushed him gently, rubbing circles with his thumbs where his fingers rested but still not moving them. 

Jaskier smiled at the question and went and fetched a tray of jewelry for Eskel to pick from. Eskel nudged Lambert to focus his attention on the tray that was tipped down so that they could see it better. "Which one do you like most, Lamb?" Eskel asked, his voice sounded raw and bordered on needy. 

Lambert didn't think he could answer without a whine and he didn’t want to admit to liking any of them. But he wanted all of them. Wanted them all draped over him, covering him and making him even more pretty for Jaskier and Eskel. Lambert’s eyes caught on a pair of earrings that matched the necklace he already was wearing and Jaskier frowned, waiting for his answer. 

When he realized Lambert intended to keep quiet, Jaskier pinched and twisted one of Lambert's nipples harshly, his voice a stern growl. "He asked you a question, Lambert. Which one?" 

Lambert just arched into those hands, capable of bringing him pleasure or pain, as a high whine rose from the back of his throat. He raised himself a little higher, pressing into Jaskier's hand, wanting more of whatever the man gave him.

"Which one do you think he'd look best in, Eskel?" Jaskier asked, ignoring Lambert entirely now. 

Eskel took the earrings Lambert had been eyeing off the tray, inspecting the tiny screw backs. A clever design, made to wear without pierced ears. Jaskier smiled, plucking one out of Eskel's hands. Just as he thought, they fit just right on Lambert's peaked nipples, dangling and swaying as Lambert's breathing sped up. Lambert’s chest heaved with each breath at the stimulation and it made him go glassy eyed. With a mischievous smirk, Eskel caught Jaskier's eye and leaned over.

His deep voice murmured softly, leaning over the bard now seated back in his chair. "We best make sure they're attached well enough. They're very pretty there, it wouldn't do to lose one, would it?"

He gathered up a soft choker, a black ribbon with a large, teardrop shaped ruby and tied it on to Lambert's neck. He made sure not to tighten it too much and the gem settled into the small hollow at the base of Lambert’s throat. Eskel’s fingers trailed down from his neck to his chest before he flicked one of the earrings. The tugging sensation drew a sharp gasp and moan from Lambert, who was now visibly trembling with the effort of not coming. 

"Oh, look at you, Lamb. So pretty like this. Letting us dress you up." Jaskier slid out of the chair, his hands roaming across Lambert's sweat soaked skin. He watched the play of muscles beneath his and Eskel's hands as Lambert twitched and trembled. Eskel slid one large hand across his chest, pushing two fingers down inside the corset as Jaskier dragged his fingernails gently down the back of Lambert's neck. He keened at all of the attention, unable to press into their hands that were roaming around him. It doesn’t mean he didn’t try as he practically writhed between them

Jaskier knelt in front of him, hands coming around his neck to cup his chest. His rubbed gently and bumped against the dangling earrings as he whispered reverently, "Oh, Eskel. Tell him how pretty he is." 

Eskel dragged a hand along Lambert's jaw, tipping his head up to look in Lambert’s eyes. Eskel's eyes were nearly black, blown wide with lust as he barely managed to huff out,"Oh. He's _beautiful_." 

It was that word, whispered with such awe that broke him. Lambert came with a broken cry, trembling at Eskel's reverent sigh. He was barely conscious after the orgasm, boneless as he slumped forward against Jaskier. Lambert felt the cold bite of what must have been Eskel's knife cutting the ropes away from his arms. He shuddered at the feeling, wishing that they'd just undone the knots. Lambert was thankful that they at least left the corset on, he liked the slight pressure of it against his skin. Goosebumps covered his body as he started to come back to himself. He felt the rush of embarrassment and buried his face into Jaskier’s chest to hide. Jaskier kept whispering at him, telling him how pretty he’d looked and how good he’d been. Lambert heard Eskel talking to Jaskier softly above him but doesn’t pay them any mind. At least, until Jaskier is talking to him. “Can we take off the corset or do you want to leave it on?” he asked, gently rubbing where the rope rested on his back. 

“You can take it off. But don’t cut it. It’s too pretty to cut,” Lambert said. The last part was barely more than a whisper of breath but Jaskier nodded anyways. He heard him whisper more instructions to Eskel and then the corset began coming untied. It was slow, each row of rope being peeled off of his skin almost as carefully as it had been put on. 

Once he was free, Eskel lifted him effortlessly from where he had been kneeling and leaning againstJaskier. Eskel cradled him close, carrying him to the bed where he was laid gently in the center, both of them soothing and rubbing all of his sore muscles and the indents the rope had left in his skin. Jaskier got up and came back with a warm, damp piece of clothing and set to rubbing away the sweat and come gently. 

"That is it, darling," Jaskier whispered, tossing the rag to be laundered before joining them on the bed. Eskel ran surprisingly soft fingers through Lambert's dark hair. He twitched a little, only half awake as he twisted in Jaskier’s hold to bury his face in Jaskier's throat. Reaching behind him blindly, Lambert sought out Eskel's with a groping hand. He eventually hit something solid and tried to press the large witcher closer into his back. When he felt that they were both satisfactorily curled around him, a soft rumbling sound started deep in his chest. It grew louder and more confident as neither man stopped their gentle caresses across his skin. 

Lambert drifted to sleep, warm and comfortable between the bard and the Witcher. They were wrapped around him so no matter how he stirred, Lambert knew that they were both there, cuddling the prickliest, but softest wolf.

**Author's Note:**

> (Lambert keeps the necklace. He knows that asking, the vulnerability, is difficult for the young wolf. So he's promised he never needs to ask, just come to him wearing the necklace, and they can do it all again, or whatever else he wants. Eskel takes to bringing Lambert new necklaces, and even more ornate jewelry every winter)


End file.
